


Sherlock Holmes' Heart

by hotchoco195



Series: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes & Family [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU Great Game, Clueless Sherlock, Gen, Kid Fic, Mycroft Being a Good Brother, Sherlock Feels, Surprises, fem!Moriarty, mentions of drug abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-23
Updated: 2013-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-30 06:28:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 19,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1015280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hotchoco195/pseuds/hotchoco195
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The game doesn't go the way Sherlock expected. Is he equipped to deal with the new challenge?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Moriarty!”

The name was familiar, teasingly so. Sherlock mouthed it to himself as he stepped off Jefferson Hope’s shoulder. He should remember this – he remembered everyone of importance, and clearly Moriarty was right up there. He sat patiently as the cops and the EMTs found him and started tending to the already dead cabbie, vaguely conscious of Lestrade with a hand on his shoulder calling his name. Moriarty...it was there. He just couldn’t touch it. Usually for Sherlock that meant one thing.

When Mycroft made his appearance, he made sure to linger for a moment before following John.

“Mycroft, do you remember a person from my...addict days?”

“I remember many people you associated with. Most of them are dead.” His brother smiled thinly.

He was about to ask if Moriarty was one of them before changing his mind. He wanted to keep this one to himself.

 

It gnawed at him for a few days but Sherlock knew how impossible it was to extract anything from his memory of those years and quickly moved on to finding Moriarty in the present.

When the envelope came for him at Scotland Yard, the neat female scrawl on the front triggered some recollection – not enough, just a sense he’d seen it before. Attached to a phone number, perhaps...

The game played out, pips counting down to what he knew could only be a confrontation. Sherlock, impatient as always, decided he wasn’t going to wait for that. He left the message on his website and waited for John to disappear before hailing a cab.

*****

The pool was dim, the light flickering eerily as the water rippled over the dull blue bottom. Sherlock held up the flash drive. “I’m tired of waiting, Moriarty. Leave the cheap foreplay for someone else.”

The door on the other side of the room opened with a squeak and a woman walked in, the kind he might have been impressed by if he noticed women at all. She had elegantly styled brown waves to her shoulders, perfectly painted red lips curled smugly. She wore expensive black stilettos and a long tailored grey coat belted around a trim waist. She’d be a bit under average height without the shoes, the top of her head level with Sherlock's shoulder. Dark eyes skimmed him with barely-contained laughter as she stepped closer.

“Hello again, Sherly. You wouldn’t believe how hard it’s been holding back all this time.”

He narrowed his gaze. It was almost there...a hazy figure, the push of the needle...

“Have you got it yet?” she took small steps forward, the click of her heels echoing off the walls, “I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t. You were quite the junkie last time we met.”

Irish lilt...he could _almost_ place it.

She walked until they were almost touching. “What if I give you a clue?”

She leaned in, head tilted, and ran her nose along his neck with a breathy cry. The knowledge smashed into Sherlock’s head like a stampeding bull. “Jenna.”

“Very good, Sherly!” she smiled prettily.

“You used to be at the club. You were dating the owner.”

“You say dating, I say getting close enough to seize his operation, let’s not quibble over semantics.”

“And we...”

“Oh yes, _we_. Several times. You must remember that, Sherly.”

He did. The only time in his life he’d ever had sex were the years he’d spent strung out, and even then there hadn’t been enough encounters to forget someone as singular as Jenna. “You’re Moriarty?”

“Just so.”

“And this was what, some elaborate plan to pique my interest for a repeat performance?”

She laughed, the sound making him flinch as it bounced off the tiled surfaces louder and harsher. “Not at all. My business with you doesn’t stretch to pleasure – not when you’re so much more rigid than you used to be. This was a way to get your attention.”

“Well you’ve got it. What now?”

“Your gun first.”

“I think not.”

“Sherlock, I can’t risk that you’re going to have an unpredictable reaction right now. Let me assure you, it’s not my safety I’m worried about.”

He regarded her suspiciously but she looked deadly serious about it, and he was too far gone to walk away. He took the Browning from his pocket and tossed it into the pool.

“Good boy. Sebastian?”

A door opened to their left and a tall blond with gnarled scars down one side of his face and shoulders like a tank walked in casually. He was ex-military, a former officer turned mercenary but not Jen’s lover from the cool regard he paid her - so a bodyguard then, sniper most likely. Maybe throwing away his gun hadn't been such a good idea. Sherlock looked down and his eyes caught on the small child holding Sebastian’s hand. Moriarty beckoned to her and the girl walked over, taking the criminal's hand.

Jen smiled. “Meredith, this is Sherlock. Sherly, this is Meredith.”

“Meredith Moriarty?” he guessed, taking in the dark curls and the slight pout of her lips.

“How stupid do you think I am? No, for security reasons she has her father’s name. Holmes.”

 

He stared at her for a moment before running his gaze over Meredith again. She had Jen’s hair, yes, but the pale blue-grey eyes were all his, as well as the strong nose. The girl was looking up at him curiously with none of the shyness of a normal child. She looked about four, which would have made her the right age...still, this was Moriarty. She of all people had the resources to find a child that resembled Sherlock just to mess with him.

"Should I be congratulating Mycroft?" he drawled, eyes still on the girl.

Jenna laughed. "Oh Sherly, it's so much fun watching your mind work. But you're smarter than that."

Sherlock pressed his lips together. She wasn't wrong.

“Hello, Meredith.” He choked out.

“Hello, Da.” Her voice was low like his, the accent pure London.

Sherlock could feel Jen watching him closely as he crouched to get a better look. Sherlock wasn’t well-versed in handling children but he had a fair idea you were supposed to pay them compliments.

“I like your coat.” He pointed at the red garment that was as well-cut as her mother’s.

“Thank you.”

“Do you know who I am?”

Meredith rolled her eyes as Jen snorted. “Of course. Ma told me all about you.”

“She’s a product of _us_ , Sherly. She’s probably smarter than the average PHD student.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet you.” He said awkwardly.

“Mer, will you wait over there with Sebby while I have a chat to your Da?”

“Okay.”

The blond took her small hand and they walked around the pool unhurriedly. Sherlock followed her with his eyes the whole way.

“How are you doing, Sherly? Shock set in yet?”

“Why now?” he looked back, “Why reveal her now, instead of when you were pregnant?”

“I was busy.”

“And you’re not anymore?”

“Quite the opposite. But due to the more dangerous nature of some of my work, I thought now might be a good time for her to get to know her father. She can spend time with you, form a connection. If something happened to me...I want her to have a second option.”

“So you expect me to take her in rather than give up your work?”

“Meredith is my greatest achievement, but I couldn’t live without the work, Sherly. You must understand that.”

He looked down rather than admit she was right. “What are you expecting?”

“Shared custody. I’ll have Sebby ferry her between us. You two can bond and we’ll both have lots of time for our pet projects.”

“What makes you think I would agree to that arrangement? If I have you arrested I can take full custody, and now that I know she exists I’m not likely to leave her with you.”

She pursed her lips coyly. “Afraid I’m a bad influence?”

“I know you are.”

“Can’t be worse than you, Sherly.”

“You spring this on me after four years via a series of bombings and expect I’ll go along with your plan? For God’s sake Jenna, if your life is dangerous enough that Meredith needs an out, then it’s too dangerous for her at all.”

Moriarty smiled. “I’m so pleased to see you like this, all protective papa already.”

Sherlock frowned. “She is my flesh and blood. I may not always get along with family but I still want to know they are safe.”

Jen fished inside her coat and pulled out an envelope with that same handwriting. “This is the key to a place I own near Baker Street. My people will move you and Dr Watson in tomorrow.”

“What?”

“Your current flat is hardly big enough for the two of you, let alone Meredith. Don’t worry darling, it’s not booby-trapped. I even think it’s to your taste.”

“Littered with cameras I suppose.”

“Surveillance and rent free, in fact. At least until Mycroft discovers it.”

“I am perfectly capable of finding my own flat.”

“But you’d have to ask brother dearest to step up your allowance if you want more space. I’m offering it no strings attached, Sherly.”

He gave her a scathing look. “I doubt that.”

“Sherlock, it’s well past Mer’s bedtime so let’s end this. You have two options – I walk out of here and you never see her again, or we come to a truce and share her. You’ll stop chasing me, I’ll stay away from you and your little pals. You’d get a chance to know Meredith - your only chance.”

“I could find her without your permission.”

“You know I could take her well beyond your resources. And what kind of message does it send a child, seeing her parents fight?”

Sherlock was quiet. Half an hour ago he’d had no idea the child existed; now he was determined not to leave her with only Moriarty as a role model. If he couldn’t get her away from the mastermind then he had no choice. “Fine.”

“Good! Sebastian?”

The guard escorted Meredith back and Moriarty swept her up onto her hip in a much more maternal fashion than Sherlock had expected.

“Say goodbye to your Da. You can see him again tomorrow.”

“Bye, Da.”

“Goodbye, Meredith.”

“I’ll send the details of the deal over with her once you and darling Johnny have settled in. Ta-ta!” Jen waved and carried the girl out.

*****

Sherlock was rather at a loss how to explain this to John. He had to do it before the movers showed up to take their things to the new flat but the doctor wasn’t home when he got there. His second concern was making sure the flat was as harmless as Jen had assured him, which required a call he’d rather not make. Mycroft was going to be so smug.

But he had to learn to ask for help. He was probably going to need a lot.

_I need to see you - SH_

_It’s three in the morning. Is this really vital? - MH_

_Yes - SH_

_I’ll be over soon - MH_

He hung up, pacing the lounge room for the full twenty minutes it took Mycroft to let himself in. His brother looked unrumpled in one of his normal suits, sinking into John’s armchair wearily.

“Now, what is so pressing it could not wait?”

“I assume you know Jenna Moriarty?”

Mycroft’s face paled. “Naturally. She is a significant threat. We like to monitor those closely.”

“Close enough to know she has a daughter?”

“Ah. No.”

“Our daughter, I should say.”

The statesman frowned. “I beg your pardon?”

Sherlock finally stopped pacing, sitting opposite his brother. Instead he began to rapidly tap his foot. “I had a brief connection with Jenna during my...five years ago.”

“A connection of a sexual nature?”

“Yes.”

“And she claims you fathered this child?”

“I know it, Mycroft. I saw her. The resemble is undeniable.”

He looked thoughtful. “Why did she tell you now?”

“She wants us to share custody, to give Meredith some kind of stability.”

“But not enough to just hand her over to you full-time?”

“No.”

Mycroft smoothed the fabric over his knees. “Very well. I will put together an extraction team-”

“No.”

“No?”

“I will not do anything that jeopardises Meredith or my access to her.”

Mycroft’s face darkened, surprise written over his features. “Sherlock, if you really care about her you’ll understand we can’t leave her with Moriarty.”

“I understand that no matter who her mother is, Meredith will not be better off if Jenna’s suddenly removed from her life.”

“Be reasonable. Moriarty’s lifestyle endangers her.”

“I trust that Meredith’s security is her utmost priority. After all, it’s been four years and you didn’t know about her.”

Mycroft sighed. “Very well. What did you call me for then?”

“Jen is giving John and I a flat because Baker Street is too small for three people. I want you to have your team check it out, make sure there’s nothing untoward about the place before tomorrow.”

“Fine.”

“But Mycroft, don’t bother installing your cameras. I’m sure Moriarty will only have them removed to protect Meredith’s privacy.”

“I’ll try to restrain myself. Is that all?”

“For now.”

Mycroft stood wearily but paused with a strange expression. “You are a father, Sherlock Holmes.”

“I suppose I am.”

“Are you ready for all that entails?”

“No, but I have John and Mrs Hudson and you to advise me. I'm sure I can cope.”

“If this were any normal child perhaps, but considering her parents...”

“What?” Sherlock looked up.

Mycroft smiled evilly. “I look forward to watching you struggle.”

 

By the world’s worst luck John showed up at the exact same time as Moriarty’s removalists. Sherlock left the packing to them, the team of four moving through their flat like a hurricane of high efficiency while he tried to calm the doctor down.

“You didn’t think to tell me you were leaving? Sherlock, how am I supposed to afford this place by myself!”

“I didn’t know I was going anywhere until eight hours ago and I didn’t think you’d appreciate being woken up.”

“Of all the inconsiderate things you’ve done, this is the worst!” the blond ranted.

“John, please. Try to listen.”

A removalist carried a box up the stairs towards John’s room and he turned. “Hey! What are you doing?”

“They’re getting your things.”

“Sherlock, what the hell is going on!”

“I am _trying_ to explain!” he sighed, exasperated, “We’re both moving.”

“Oh, and you just decided this did you?”

“I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter. Will you please sit and let me explain?”

John scowled but flopped into a chair. Sherlock took a breath.

“I met Moriarty last night. Or re-met.”

“What!”

Sherlock gave him a warning look and John clamped his mouth shut.

“It turns out I knew her years ago while deeply into my substance abuse. We...”

“You what?”

Sherlock made a vague gesture and John sucked in a breath.

“Moriarty’s a woman.”

“Yes.”

“A woman you had sex with?”

“Yes.”

“You. Had sex.”

“Yes.”

“With Moriarty?”

“Please try not to be so dense!”

“Alright! So what happened?”

“Well, thanks to the drug-induced lack of caution and the natural laws of reproduction, our relations had a common side-effect.”

“A what?”

He clenched his eyes shut, speaking rapidly to force the words out. “We have a daughter.”

The kitchen was silent for so long Sherlock thought maybe he’s passed out, but when he opened his eyes John was staring at him.

“Well say something.”

“ _You_ have a daughter.”

“It appears so.”

John burst out laughing so hard he hunched over and held his stomach, forehead flat against the table. Sherlock huffed and crossed his arms, but when a full minute passed and he hadn’t stopped the detective reached over and pinched John’s arm.

“Hey!”

“Please take this seriously.”

“Oh I am, it’s just priceless. The one time you sleep with someone and you end up with a child.”

“Jen wants us to get to know each other. We’re going to share custody.”

“How? Baker Street’s not big enough – oh. The moving?”

“Yes. She arranged it.”

“You found another flat?”

“Not exactly. Mycroft accommodated me.” Sherlock lied, not sure how John would take the idea of a possible trap. His brother had assured him everything seemed to check out but it was better not to make things worse.

“How much?”

“Free. I hope that’s acceptable?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“And, um, living with a child part of the time?”

“I’d love to meet her,” the doctor smiled suddenly, jumping up to run around the table and hug his flatmate, “You’re a dad, Sherlock!”

He smiled for the first time since he’d found out. “I guess I am.”

“This calls for a celebration. Shall we get some breakfast?”

“I think I’d rather survey our new living situation. We can get a second key cut for you, check out the flat?”

“Sounds good.”

 

The new place was as close as Jen had said, still in Marylebone but a slightly nicer section near Harley Street. John was quite familiar with the area, given the number of medical practices. The pair got out of a cab and looked up at the thin white facade of the house.

“Flash.”

“I’m glad we’re not the ones paying for it.” Sherlock nodded.

John gave him a skeptical look that said he didn’t believe Sherlock ever thought about money and followed him through the low iron gate. When they got to the black front door he frowned. “Do we know which flat it is?”

Sherlock checked the keyring but it was just a blank tag. "The address didn’t specify."

“I guess we’ll figure it out.”

He unlocked the door and stepped into a blue carpeted hallway. John looked around with a gape.

“No way. This isn’t possible. A whole house? In Marylebone?”

It was narrow and not terribly long but still spacious. Sherlock walked into a lounge room that looked a lot like Baker Street, dark wood paneled walls and a fireplace with one or two gaps where their furniture would slot in and space for their decorations. John walked past him into the fully-stocked kitchen with a whistle.

“Mycroft went all out.”

“Perhaps he’s excited at the prospect of being an uncle. It gives him one more person to fuss over.”

The rest of the first floor was an elegant dining room Sherlock knew they’d never use and a huge linen cupboard/pantry. The next floor up was a trio of bedrooms, each with their own ensuite. Two were still mostly empty but the third was completely set up for a child (albeit not a normal one.) There was a white bookcase full of academic texts and one just for classic fiction, an ornate white Baroque bed with a mountain of tasteful gold pillows and a wardrobe full of tiny designer children’s clothes. John held up a small white dress that looked like Chanel and muffled a squeak.

“God Sherlock, this is bizarre.”

“Come on, let’s look upstairs.”

The third floor was nothing but one huge lab/workroom. Half was set up with slightly lower counters, and there was a lock on the chemicals cupboard.

“I guess Mycroft’s expecting you to include Meredith in some of your experiments?” John frowned.

“Evidently he thinks it’s safer up here than the kitchen.”

The blond snorted. “Well he’s right.”

The door opened downstairs. "Mr Holmes?"

"Just a minute!" he yelled backed.

“It’s very nice. I almost feel guilty taking it.” John made a face.

“It’s early yet. We’ll see how you feel in a week.”

 John apparently didn’t share his belief that the movers would be fine, helping unpack even though he mostly got in the way. He was going through the contents of his bedside table when he frowned. “Sherlock?”

“Hmm?” he drifted out of Meredith’s room where he’d been examining the contents of the bookcases.

“Where’s my gun?”

“Ah. It was lost.”

“Lost?”

“I took it to the meeting with Moriarty.”

John looked annoyed but he shrugged. “At least you were being careful.”

“Indeed.”

“We’re finished, Mr Holmes.” One of the removalists stuck his head in.

“Thank you.”

The group let themselves out and John looked up. “When is she getting here?”

“When we’ve settled in – I assume within the next hour.”

“I’ll see what’s in the kitchen. Do you know if she has any dietary requirements?”

“No.”

“Allergies?”

“No.” Sherlock frowned. Raising a child was going to need a lot more attention to detail. He was good at that, right?

John caught the flicker of worry and smiled. “Relax. It’s only been twelve hours. I’m sure Moriarty will tell you everything you need to know.”

“John, what if I am an abject failure? I am not emotionally inclined in the least. Don’t children need affection and praise?”

“Firstly, the way you’re so committed to this so quickly shows you already care. Imagine how much stronger that feeling will be once you get to know her. Secondly, I figure a child of you and Moriarty wouldn’t incur any of the scorn the rest of us unfortunate idiots get. You’ll be fine.”

He felt surprisingly better. "Of course. Finally I'll have some intelligent conversation."

"Thanks a lot." the ex-soldier sighed, rolling his eyes.

 

John went downstairs to look for tea and biscuits and Sherlock went to get a feel for the new living room. He’d been pacing for ten minutes when the bell rang.

“I’ll get it!” he hurried into the hall, throwing the door open.

Meredith stood on the doorstep with Sebastian, the man in a leather jacket and khaki pants. He had one hand on her shoulder protectively and a lime green backpack in the other.

“Sebastian,” Sherlock waved him in, “Hello, Meredith.”

“Hi, Da.”

She reached out and squeezed his hand and he smiled uncertainly. The gunman seemed to be giving him a pointed look and the detective quickly knelt to hug her. Her tiny arms wrapped around him tight for a moment before letting go.

Sherlock tried for a welcoming smile and only managed to make himself look slightly ill. “Come in, there’s someone I need to introduce you to.”

John had come into the lounge on hearing voices and his face brightened as they walked in.

“John, this is Meredith and Sebastian. Meredith, this is my flatmate Dr John Watson.”

“The army surgeon. Ma told me about you too.”

“Good things, I hope. My, you look like your dad.”

She blushed happily and Sebastian cleared his throat. “Mer, would you mind helping Dr John make some tea so I can have a word with your father?”

“Okay.”

John offered his hand and she took it, the pair disappearing into the kitchen. Sherlock waved at John’s armchair. “Please take a seat.”

Sebastian sat and opened the backpack, pulling out a thick folder. He handed it to the detective. “This is copies of everything you need. Birth certificate, medical records, list of likes and dislikes. The boss has been home-schooling her and there’s a list of topics they’ve covered – and a list of ones best left alone until she’s a bit older. The details of your cases falls under that heading, I think.”

“Obviously. I assume there are rules to this.”

“Of course. Don’t endanger her needlessly, don’t tell anyone the identity of her mother, don’t advertise her existence more than necessary. You don’t have to keep her cooped up in the house but the less noticeable, the better.”

“Sensible.”

“You’ll have her one week out of every two, and the holidays will be negotiated a month in advance. If you want to take her anywhere outside of London you’ll need to consult Jen.”

“Will she return the favour?”

Sebastian grinned. “No. A small sum will be placed in your account every week to help with her expenses-”

“That’s not necessary.”

“The boss insists. If Meredith is alone with you and for some reason you need to go out urgently – and I stress _urgently_ – I can come over and watch her. It’s not to be abused though.”

“I appreciate the consideration but I doubt I’ll be doing much casework on the weeks she’s here.”

“There’s a sheet with contacts for Jen and myself. If anything happens to Meredith, tell one of us immediately. And most importantly, you’re not in any way to discuss Jen’s job.”

He scoffed. “I wouldn’t make her a villain to her own daughter. Besides, doesn’t that fall under the category of things not to be discussed with a child?”

Sebastian stood. “I’ll be back to collect her in a week, same time.”

“You’re leaving now?” Sherlock said anxiously.

“Is that a problem?” his blue eyes hardened.

“No. We’ll see you in a week.”

Sebastian headed for the kitchen. “I’m off, Mer.”

“You said you’d stay for tea!” she pouted and Sherlock recognised Jenna in the expression.

Apparently it worked because Sebastian sighed. “One quick cup.”

 

John poured, and they settled around the kitchen table. Meredith and Sherlock couldn’t stop looking at each other. John thought it was sort of adorable as he helped himself to another biscuit.

The tea drunk in silence, Sebastian walked around the table to kneel by Meredith’s chair. “I’m going now but I’ll be back in a week. If you need to talk to your mother just ask Sherlock or John, they’ve got the number. Let us know if there’s anything you need or if you want to come home early.”

“I’ll be okay, Bastian.” She smiled.

“Alright. Be good for your dad then.”

She kissed his cheek and the sniper blushed, getting up. He nodded once to Sherlock and the detective stood. “I’ll walk you out.”

The two men headed for the front door and John smiled at Meredith. “So, what do you want to do now?”

“I want to play a game with Da.”

“I think we’ve got Monopoly around here somewhere. Do you want me to give you two some time alone?”

“You can play, Dr John.”

“Just John is fine.”

“You’re nice,” She grinned, “I’m glad Da has such nice friends.”

John couldn’t hold back the warm fuzzy feeling in his chest at that, beaming as he put the mugs in the sink. “I’ll find that game then.”

Sherlock walked back in and regarded the pair a little warily. His arms hung limp like he wasn’t sure what to do now.

“Meredith’s asked to play Monopoly with us.”

Sherlock shot him a grateful look. “Ah. That sounds fun.”

“So long as neither of you cheat, I’ll be happy.”

Sherlock and his daughter made an identical mock-offended face, but John wasn’t convinced.

*****

It wasn’t fair. A four year old had trounced him at Monopoly. Admittedly she and Sherlock had been scheming against him, but still! John used to think he was pretty good at the game but they’d managed to bankrupt him quickly. From there it had dissolved into a contest of wits between the two Holmeses – and _that_ was a weird thought – and John had retired to making tea and bringing snacks. There was a smaller tea cup in the cupboard he guessed was for Meredith and was touched again by Mycroft’s attention to detail.

The game was in its fifth hour, John curled in his armchair half-reading and half-watching. Sherlock had secured the costlier rentals but Meredith had more properties. Rather than expend on hotels she’d built houses, but she’d built them everywhere. Sherlock couldn’t move without landing on something. It was hard to say who’d win.

There was a knock at the door and Sherlock looked at him, puzzled. No one knew they’d moved.

“I’ll get it.” The doctor said.

He covertly took the firebrand from its place by the hearth and wished fervently for his gun as he opened the door.

“Mycroft?”

The older Holmes looked almost embarrassed. “I hope I am not intruding. I...I wanted to see everything was in order.”

“Sure. Uh, come in.”

He walked into the hall, pausing in the lounge room door. Sherlock looked up and raised a brow. Meredith was counting her money with a smile, but she noticed the man not long after her father and gave Sherlock a timid look. Mycroft was staring at her with an expression John had never seen on him before: shock, or maybe wonder. It had a warm edge to it, something paternal too.

“Mycroft?”

“I’m sorry, perhaps I should have called.”

“It’s fine,” Sherlock flicked a glance at his daughter, “Come in.”

Mycroft took a few steps and stopped again.

“Meredith, this is your Uncle Mycroft. Mycroft, this is Meredith Holmes.”

His brow twitched at the last name but he smiled more sincerely than usual. “It is a pleasure to meet you, my dear.”

“You’re older than Da.” She said, tilting her head.

John smothered a guffaw as Mycroft smiled wryly. “A little, yes.”

“Would you like to play?” she gestured at the board.

“I can see you’re almost finished. I’m happy to wait.”

He moved into Sherlock’s chair and John sat down again, the two of them watching as the pair on the floor played out the last few rounds. Sherlock won but only just, and from the crooked smile he gave Mycroft John was fairly sure he’d been trying his hardest. Meredith quickly reset the board, but envisioning another six hour game John cleared his throat.

“How about something else? Cluedo?”

Sherlock shot him a glare and John sighed.

“Or whatever. I’ll check what we have. Do you want to come see?”

Meredith nodded and followed him to the big cupboard at the end of the hall. Mycroft stared after them.

“Well?” Sherlock said quietly.

“She is a Holmes, that’s for certain.”

“First person to challenge me at a game since you.”

“She’s gorgeous.”

There was such softness in Mycroft’s tone it was shocking. Sherlock was suddenly reminded of the times when he’d been very young and Mycroft had looked after him. They were distant memories now but he could recall that same breathless adoration. “I’m glad you think so.”

“Things are arranged between you and Moriarty?”

“Yes. I’ve got Meredith for a week at a time.”

“You must not hesitate to ask if you need help.”

Sherlock managed a grin at that. “I am surprised you never had any children.”

“I do not have time for them, Sherlock.”

“Well you’re welcome to visit.”

“Thank you.”

Meredith came back holding John’s hand and a small wooden box. The doctor looked both apprehensive and excited.

“What did you pick, Meredith?” Sherlock asked.

She held up a three-player chess board that definitely hadn’t come from Baker Street, and Sherlock wondered if Moriarty had put it there on purpose for just this moment.

“Will you and Uncle Mycroft play?”

The elder Holmes gave him a resigned look as Sherlock grinned wickedly. “Of course. Let’s put it on the coffee table though – Uncle Mycroft’s knees aren’t what they used to be.”

John could barely contain his giggles as the trio set out their pieces and sat facing each other. The room had taken on a very tense competitive atmosphere and he knew this was more than likely to end with a yelling match between the brothers, but it was too good a chance to pass up. He expected Meredith might not last long but he couldn’t be sure. Mycroft and Sherlock both seemed enchanted with her; perhaps they would go easy to draw the game out. Neither of them were the coddling type though. Either way it was going to be an interesting game. He pulled his chair closer and sat back to watch, wishing he could invite Lestrade over. He had a feeling the detective inspector would get a kick out of this.

Sherlock may have initially intended to go a little easy on Meredith, figuring it would be more entertaining for her if she had a shot, but it was quickly made apparent that chess was one of Jen’s lessons when the girl came out of nowhere and swept away his bishop with a move so beautiful he never expected it. He could see the shock on Mycroft’s face too, and some internal pride not to be thoroughly defeated by his own daughter made Sherlock play as he normally would have.

Much of the game between Mycroft and Sherlock happened in their heads, eyes locked on each other as they deduced the next series of moves each would make. Meredith barely seemed to look at them at all, her eyes only on the board, but she opened up pathways and captured pieces with lightning speed and precision while maintaining a strong defence. Sherlock was the most daring of the three and Mycroft’s the most strategic game, but the three were fairly equally matched. Mycroft took one of Meredith’s knights and she frowned, focusing even harder.

John had half expected this to take as long as the Monopoly but it was just the opposite. They would take long pauses weighing each other up, and then suddenly the pieces would be flying over the board. It looked like Meredith was winning, and then Sherlock, and then his brother and then back to Sherlock again, when suddenly Meredith slid her queen forward.

“Double checkmate.”

Sherlock stared at the board with his mouth open while Mycroft blinked at the girl like he’d misheard her. John could see the artful way she’d moved exactly between the two kings, their own pieces preventing them moving away. She’d herded them towards each other and then swooped in for the victory, grinning proudly.

“Well done!” he clapped.

She threw him a happy look before Sherlock reached over and kissed her head. “It seems you’re the cleverest Holmes, my dear.”

“I shall have to relinquish you a congratulatory cupcake.” Mycroft agreed.

She looked fit to burst with glee, leaning into Sherlock’s touch. John glanced at the clock. “I think it’s your bedtime, miss.”

“Aw, can’t I stay up a little longer?”

“Yes, can’t she?” Sherlock looked at him just as pleadingly.

John hid a chuckle. “You can play again in the morning.”

“Dr Watson is right. There will be plenty of time for a rematch.” Mycroft said fondly.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll help you get ready for bed.” Sherlock frowned.

Meredith stood and wrinkled her nose for a moment before throwing her arms around Mycroft’s neck. “Goodnight, Uncle Mycroft.”

He patted her back. “Goodnight, Meredith.”

Sherlock offered his hand and led her upstairs. John shook his head. “Amazing.”

“She is, yes.”

“No, both of them. Sherlock Holmes kissing people’s heads.”

“He’s not a robot, John. She is his child.”

“I know, I just...didn’t expect them to be so comfortable so fast.”

Mycroft stood and John slowly walked him to the door. “He’ll need you, John. Children need boundaries and Sherlock does not have the strength of will to discipline one. He has almost no practical knowledge of running a household or keeping another being fed and well-rested.”

“I’ll look after them.”

Mycroft paused in the doorway. “I am always available, as I said.”

 

By the time John got upstairs they’d managed to find and get Meredith into a long pink nightgown and brush her teeth. Sherlock was settling her under the covers, fussing over whether she was warm enough.

“I’m fine, Da.”

“I’m right next door and John’s across the hall if you need anything.”

“Will you read me a story?”

“What kind of story?”

“Scott.”

“Alright then.”

He rummaged through the bookshelf until he found it, standing awkwardly by the bed. Meredith patted the mattress beside her and he sat. John listened out of sight to the low drone of his voice as he read, spinning the tale of crusaders and Saxons without much animation, but trying at least. It was difficult to believe how different their life was to what it been this morning.

After fifteen minutes he stuck his head in. Sherlock was still reading but Meredith looked fast asleep, curls spread over the pillow.

“I think she’s out.” He whispered.

Sherlock looked up in surprise and checked. “Ah. Yes.”

He climbed off the bed carefully, laying the book on the bedside table. He turned on a small lamp and walked over to the main light, pausing once he’d switched it off.

“This is terrifying, John. Look at that frail small creature. I am supposed to look after her and I can barely look after myself.”

“Well you’ve both got me to help.”

“What if she doesn’t like me once the initial novelty wears off?”

“She’ll love you. You’re her dad.”

“My mind is suddenly overflowing with mundane concerns and worries. I don’t know how to braid hair or shop for birthday presents or pack a lunch or-”

“Sherlock, relax.”

“I don’t even know what children like.”

“You can figure it out. I have faith in you.”

“John," he whispered, "What if I mess everything up?”

“Children are fairly forgiving. Meredith knows it’s as new for you as it is for her. Remember you can always call Moriarty if you need to check things, and you’ve got me and Mycroft too. We’ll get used to it, Sherlock.”

“I hope so.” He muttered and closed the door.

 

The next morning John walked into Sherlock’s room and found Meredith curled up with the detective and snorted softly. They’d do just fine.

*****

“Pancakes?” John asked when Sherlock finally emerged.

“Thank you. There’s a list on the fridge – I don’t think Meredith has any allergies but you should check.”

“Alright. You get her ready.”

“Uh, right.”

“You can do it, Sherlock. You got her dressed for bed.”

Sherlock mumbled something that sounded like ‘pyjamas are easy’ before disappearing back into his room. The girl was sitting up with a yawn. “Good morning.”

“Morning, Da.”

“John’s making breakfast. Would you like to pick your clothes?”

“Can I pick yours too?”

“Um, sure.”

She giggled and headed for his wardrobe. Meredith pawed through the suits until she found a pair of grey pants and a soft blue shirt that matched his eyes, thrusting them at Sherlock before grabbing his hand and dragging him to her room. She opened her cupboard and stared at the dresses and things thoughtfully. Meredith chose a pair of green jeans and a lemon sweater and laid them on the bed.

“You’ll be alright on your own?” Sherlock glanced at the bathroom.

She gave him a baleful look. “Yes, Da.”

“Okay. I’ll be back in a moment.”

He waited until he heard the water running and rushed to his room to dress, knowing he shouldn’t leave her unsupervised too long. He knocked on the door.

“How are you going?”

“Almost done!”

It was another few minutes before the water stopped and then a few more before she opened the door clad in a towel, hair dripping down her back. Sherlock took the material and rubbed it against her curls without being too rough, making sure he’d gotten as much moisture out as possible before waving her towards her clothes. She got a little stuck with the sweater but he gave a helpful tug and then looked around for a hairbrush. He found it in the bathroom and motioned for her to stand in front of him as he gently worked the knots out.

“You’re good at this.”

“Well I’ve got curly hair too.” He grinned.

“I must get it from you.”

“Most likely.”

He took comfort in the repetitive, easy strokes of the brush. This at least he could do without messing up. Once it was untangled though he was a bit lost about whether or not he should attempt to tie it back, but decided that was too much for the present.

“Breakfast?”

“Sure.”

She held his hand as they headed downstairs. John had already made a short pile on the counter, smiling as Meredith climbed onto her chair. “Good morning, Merry.”

She smiled at the nickname. “Morning, Uncle John.”

Sherlock smiled at the heart-wrenching surprise and pleasure on John’s face before stepping in to save the man. “What do you want on your pancakes, Meredith?”

“Honey.”

“Okay.”

He looked in just about every cupboard before he found it, spreading a thick layer over her pancakes before setting them on the table. He sat beside her and watched intently as she ate, half afraid she was going to choke.

“Why aren’t you eating, Da?”

“I’m not hungry.”

She scowled, and it was such a fierce little reflection of Jen that Sherlock actually started in his chair. “You need to eat. Ma didn’t like to either but I told her it’s not good for you to skip meals.”

John bit his lip as he looked over her head. “She’s right, Sherlock.”

He stuck his tongue in his cheek but sighed. “I suppose you won’t take no for an answer?”

“Nope.”

He got up with a grumble and took a pancake from the stack. She eyed him with a look he expected from Mycroft and he rolled his eyes but took another. “Happy?”

“Yes.” She grinned, stabbing another syrupy mouthful with her fork. She had honey on her cheek and it was dangerously close to getting in her hair. Sherlock _had_ to figure out this grooming thing.

“I’ve got a shift at the clinic today. Will you two be alright by yourselves?”

Sherlock looked up wide-eyed and John gave him a reassuring smile.

“You can text me if you get lost.”

“We’ll be fine, right Da?”

“I’m sure we can find something to do.”

“Okay. Have a good day.”

Meredith raised her face expectantly and he bent down. She pressed a sticky kiss to his cheek and Sherlock snickered, but then John walked out and the front door shut and it was just him and a four year old girl in an empty house.

He almost missed Jenna. At least he could handle her.

 

_What do children find entertaining? - SH_

_WHY DON'T YOU PLAY ANOTHER GAME? MORIARTY GAVE YOU THAT CURRICULUM, YOU COULD START TEACHING HER SOMETHING._

_SOMETHING APPROPRIATE._

_Have printed off worksheets for basic German and ordered a variety of textbooks – SH_

_How often do children need to eat, and how much? – SH_

_Cooking is just chemistry. Should be able to whip something up – SH_

_Am going to make pasta – SH_

_Pasta seems horribly complex. Am going to make sandwiches – SH_

_Cannot find the bread – SH_

_Where is it? – SH_

_There is a bread bin but no bread. How could they miss that? – SH_

_Making sandwiches with leftover pancakes as bread – SH_

_Is that nutritious enough or should her diet be more varied? – SH_

_SHE'LL BE FINE, SHERLOCK. I'LL GET BREAD ON THE WAY HOME._

_Do four year olds need a nap? – SH_

_Meredith did not take kindly to that suggestion. She is complaining in French – SH_

_And Spanish – SH_

_And Russian – SH_

_And Gaelic – SH_

_She seems quite adept with the Gaelic. German should go well – SH_

_Is Connie Price alright to watch or will it negatively impact her feminine self-esteem? – SH_

_I think I need a nap – SH_

_When are you getting home? – SH_

_Meredith is teaching me about astronomy. Much more interesting than when you tried – SH_

_Do you think Mrs Hudson will teach me to plait her hair? – SH_

_Mrs H on her way over. She sounded very excited. I fear I have made a grave mistake – SH_

_Mrs H and Meredith getting along splendidly, though she sometimes gives me a look when Mrs H gets too gushy. Have practiced plaiting and moved on to ponytails. It is not as hard as it looks – SH_

_Pigtails impossible. Won’t sit symmetrically – SH_

_Meredith insisting on trying to braid my hair. Head is now covered in short plaits – SH_

_Mrs H will not stop laughing. Meredith seems to like them – SH_

_When are you getting back? Bring dinner – SH_

By the time John got home Mrs Hudson had left and there was a soft squeaking coming from the lounge. He hung up his coat and walked in to find Sherlock kneeling beside Meredith, his violin in her hands. He was helping her get the notes she couldn’t reach with her smaller fingers, muttering softly as he guided her through the song. Her hair sat in two long plaits, while Sherlock had undone his except for one just behind his ear. John wasn’t sure he knew it was there but he wasn’t going to say anything.

“Hello then. Did we have a good day?”

“It was lots of fun.” Meredith chirped.

Sherlock looked up with a weary but happy smile at the takeout in the doctor’s hand and John grinned.

“See? Nothing to it.”

 

Sherlock stayed up late that night running through Moriarty’s list of topics they had and hadn’t covered. He pulled up example teaching plans, websites on home schooling, tips for raising child prodigies that were mostly unhelpful but sparked a few ideas of his own and gave himself a quick brush up on basic primary science and math. When John woke in the morning it was to find Sherlock in the kitchen attempting to make French toast, Meredith swinging her legs as she sat on the table behind him in a bright blue dress that had a distinctly Audrey Hepburn feel. Her hair was in two buns on the sides of her head, a bit messy but much better than he’d expected.

“That smells good.”

“It’s his second try.” She smiled.

“I thought we agreed you weren’t going to share that with Uncle John.” Sherlock raised a brow.

“Sorry.” She said without looking particularly repentant.

“Plans for the day?”

“Meredith and I are going to do some reading and then play some more chess, and then we’ll have some time in the lab.” Sherlock looked at him proudly.

John moved to stand beside him. “I see you’ve been doing some preparation.”

“It’s like anything else, John. Data is the way to results. Here, taste this.”

John took a bite of the offered toast and moaned. “Good. Bit more cinnamon and they’ll be perfect.”

“Cinnamon.” Sherlock muttered, turning back to the spice rack.

“Have fun then,” John gave a wave as he headed out. He bumped into Mycroft at the front door. “Oh, hey. Didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I thought I’d check on things. How are they both?”

“Good, good. Sherlock’s got a busy day planned.”

“Excellent. Perhaps it’s best I not disturb them.”

“I’m sure he won’t mind you spending some time with them. I know they were going to play chess again.”

Mycroft grinned. “Then I shall offer my services for the game.”

He headed inside and found Sherlock and Meredith finishing their breakfast.

“Mycroft.” His brother quirked his lip.

“Hello, Uncle Mycroft.” She flapped a sugary hand at him.

“Hello, my dear. I thought I’d come by and say hello. Dr Watson tells me you’ve got your day planned out?”

“We do.” Sherlock said with that same touch of pride.

“I hope you won’t object if I tag along? I won’t interfere.”

Sherlock looked like he didn’t believe that but Meredith was nodding excitedly so he shrugged. He took their plates and put them in the sink.

“What’s that?” she pointed at something Mycroft had clutched under his arm.

“Oh, this. It was one of your father’s favourites when he was little and I thought you might like it.” Mycroft held up the battered copy of _Treasure Island_.

“Can we read that one?” she asked Sherlock.

“Wash your hands first.”

Meredith scrambled away from the table and he gave Mycroft an odd look.

“I thought you’d forgotten about my pirate phase.”

“How could I? You used to rope me in as victim.”

*****

After another two days in which Sherlock thought he did well coping with Meredith by himself, John got a day off and Sherlock decided they’ve been in the house too long. He woke up first and burst into the doctor’s room.

“John, which do you think Meredith would prefer, the zoo or the British Museum?”

“Sherlock...it’s seven o’clock for God’s sake!”

“I need time to prepare.”

John thought about which he’d pick. “The zoo.”

“You’re certain?”

“Observing living creatures trumps artefacts for me, but you two can probably bond more over deducing relics and statues.”

“It’s difficult.” Sherlock mused.

“Why don’t you ask Merry which she’d like better and save the other one for her next visit?”

“Right.” He bustled out again.

John sighed. There was no way he’d get back to sleep now and he knew Sherlock would have no clue how to go about taking the girl out. He got up and dressed in the most comfortable jumper he had, heading downstairs to start breakfast.

Sherlock came down ten minutes later with a smile. “Zoo.”

“Great. You’ll need to pack her bag.”

“With what?”

“Kids need stuff, Sherlock. Snacks, drinks, spare clothes, emergency bandaids. An umbrella. Wipes for their hands and face when they get ice cream all over themselves.”

“Do we have those things?” Sherlock frowned.

“We should do. Here, I’ll pack it and tell you what I’ve got in there for future reference. You take over breakfast.”

It was only sausages and toast so Sherlock couldn’t mess it up that badly. He watched with interest as John searched the cupboard for what they’d need. He zipped them into Meredith’s little green backpack and gave a curt nod.

“Military life comes in handy sometimes.”

Sherlock made a face at the state of the fridge. “We’ll need to do a grocery shop soon.”

Meredith walked in wearing a red sweater and jeans, her hairbrush and some ties in one hand. “Da, can you help me?”

“Sure thing, Merry.”

John looked at him in surprise but Meredith seemed ecstatic, hugging his leg for a second before she handed him the brush. He kept an eye on the sausages while he gently worked out the knots and pulled it back into a no-nonsense ponytail.

“You’re improving.” John remarked.

“I’d like to see you do better.” The detective sniffed.

“I had a sister.” John smiled down at the girl and she giggled.

 

They were putting on their coats and scarves and gloves (and a beanie for Meredith) when Sherlock’s phone rang. “Sherlock Holmes.”

“Sherlock, I’ve got one for ya. Double homicide in Hammersmith, locked basement. Will ya come?”

His face twitched. He hadn’t had a case in five days but amazingly he hadn’t even noticed; he’d been too busy with Meredith. But just the mention of a fresh puzzle had his mind churning, and he clenched his jaw as he glanced at the pair waiting for him by the door.

“I’m sorry, Lestrade. I am unavailable for the next two days.”

“You’re what?”

“In fact we’ll need to discuss some scheduling changes to my assisting you. I’ll come down to the Yard when I’m free and fill you in.”

“Sherlock, what am I meant to do with these people in the meantime?”

“Your job, for a start.” He rolled his eyes and hung up.

“Are we ready?” John asked pointedly.

“Completely.”

They walked to the kerb and hailed a taxi, Meredith sitting between them in the back seat. The zoo was close enough that normally Sherlock would have walked but he was mindful of Sebastian’s warning to keep Meredith out of sight as much as possible. They took the short ride around Regent’s Park and stopped at the gates.

“Alright, now stay close to me and your dad.” John cautioned as they climbed out.

Sherlock and Meredith rolled their eyes at the same time and he raised a hand.

“Hey! I saw that. Behave – both of you.”

Sherlock got the tickets, both Holmeses instantly hurrying to the first enclosure. John followed with a sigh. It was going to be a long day. This was only confirmed when the woman behind the kiosk counter smiled at them.

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Yes.” Sherlock frowned, as if that went without saying.

“You two are just the luckiest fellows!”

“We’re not together,” John said hurriedly, “I’m not gay.”

She gave him a funny look and waved them through. John looked around quickly, paranoid that everyone thought they were a couple and might be staring.

“John dear, try to keep up!” Sherlock called over his shoulder.

“Oh you smug bastard.” He hissed, ducking his head as they passed a group of smiling women.

 

They came home four hours later in the middle of a debate over the evolutionary links between bonobos and chimps and John was about ready to pass out. Chasing after two highly enthusiastic but slightly absentmindedly children was more than he was used to, but they’d made it back unscathed. He trudged upstairs and promptly dropped onto his bed for a nap. Sherlock and Meredith headed up to her room to consult one of the books on animal biology, the detective hanging up her outer things as they moved around the room in tandem.

“You can argue that there are plenty of non-mammal species that share percentages of our DNA almost as great as chimpanzees.”

“But socially-” she started.

“Ah, we never said we were speaking socially. There are still other species that behave like us.”

She had the book down and was bringing it to the bed when Sherlock’s phone rang. He held up a finger.

“Sorry. We’ll continue this. Sherlock Holmes?”

“Sherly! How are things?”

“Good.”

“Getting along alright with Mer?” Jenna chuckled.

“We’ve been having fun, haven’t we?” he smiled.

“Excellent. I just called to check in and to remind you Sebastian will be collecting her tomorrow afternoon.”

“I remembered.”

“May I speak to her?”

“It’s your mother.” He held out the phone.

Meredith took the handset happily. “Hi, Ma.”

Their conversation was in Gaelic so Sherlock only got bits and pieces, but he could tell Meredith was giving a brief rundown of her stay. He spotted the blush when she said she liked him and felt a stupid giddy rush in his stomach.

“Okay. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

Meredith hung up and handed the phone back. She was so small and yet so significant at the same time. Sherlock had never really paid much attention to people, but the few that interested him had a sense of presence – John, Jenna, even Mycroft. This child was more intriguing than any of them. He wanted her to like him, something he’d never cared about much in the past. He had all these new warm protective and proud feelings when he looked at her. It was unsettling.

“Come here, Merry.”

She climbed into his lap and he held her close, feeling the soft curls under his chin as she buried her face in his chest.

“I’m glad I got to meet you.”

She squeezed him tighter. “I’m glad too.”

*****

Sebastian came at exactly three. John was coordinating an attempt to teach both Sherlock and Meredith how to bake; the tray of cookies was horribly misshapen but the icing was immaculate and covered most of the mistakes.

“Sebastian!” Meredith smiled as he walked in.

“Hey Mer. Did you have a good week?”

“Yeah! Do you want a biscuit?”

“Sure.”

Sherlock stiffened, as if being caught by a sort-of enemy in an apron was the worst ambush possible. He dusted off his hands, untying Meredith's apron for her. “Merry, why don’t we run upstairs and get your bag? I’m sure your mother’s anxious to see you.”

“Okay.”

The two of them disappeared, leaving John to clean up the kitchen while Sebastian watched. The doctor tried a smile but he couldn’t quite look at Sebastian without imagining all the people he’d killed.

“You were in the army, yeah?” the sniper drawled.

“Fifth Northumberland Fusiliers.”

“You were stationed near me.”

John frowned, putting some cookies in a container for Meredith to take with her. “Sebastian…not Sebastian Moran?”

“That’s the one.” He smiled with something between arrogance and mischief.

“Huh. You were good.”

“Still am," he winked, "Guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”

“I guess so.”

“It’s good having you here. I know Holmes can take care of himself alright, but Meredith needs solid people around her.”

“Because of her mother?” John looked up speculatively.

Sebastian shrugged and smiled again without answering.

“You’re fond of her.”

“Known her since before she was born.”

“God, I can’t imagine the _horror_ of a pregnant Moriarty.”

Sebastian laughed. “It wasn’t so bad.”

John gave him a doubtful look and he chuckled.

“Alright. There were times I wished I was back in India.”

He snorted and kept putting things away. Sherlock and Meredith re-entered with her coat already on. He grimly handed Sebastian the backpack.

“Let’s go, Mer.”

“See you next week, Merry.” John waved.

“Bye, Uncle John. Thanks for the baking.”

The trio walked to the front door and Sebastian stepped away to give them some privacy. Sherlock crouched down and gave her a half-hearted smile.

“Don’t worry Da, I’ll be back soon.”

“Yes. Yes, you just have a good time with your mummy and I’ll see you again in a week.”

She hugged him and he kissed the top of her head quickly before opening the door for them. Sebastian gave him a nod and took her hand. “Alright Mer, quickly now.”

Sherlock stood in the doorway until they were out of sight.

John heard the front door slam and walked out of the kitchen. “Sherlock?”

But he was already heading up the stairs.

 

He didn’t come down from his lab for six hours and when he did it was to grab John and announce they needed a case.

“Uh, I’ll see what Lestrade’s got.”

“Lestrade! Yes. I said I would go and see him. Let’s do that.”

“Sherlock, it’s after nine.”

He gave the ex-soldier a disappointed look. “He’s a Detective Inspector, John. He’ll be there.”

“Sorry, silly me,” he rolled his eyes, “I’ll get us a cab.”

It was worse when they got to Scotland Yard and found Greg actually was still there, one of a handful of cops working late. Sherlock gave John a smug look as he looked up from his paperwork worriedly.

“Oh god, don’t tell me you’ve come to report some new weird crime. I’ve got enough to deal with as it is.”

“No Lestrade, as thrilling as that would be I’ve come to tell you that from now on I can only work with you one week out of every two.”

He looked between the two men as if John would help explain this unthinkable statement. “Every what? Why?”

“I have a far more important person who requires my time on those alternate weeks. I will not be accepting your calls anymore unless I am free.”

“Oh. Ah. Well.”

John could see how thrown the D.I. was – and a little deflated. He probably didn’t like relying on Sherlock so much but truthfully they all knew he did. He most likely felt hurt. “We’d explain if we could really, but believe me when I say it’s better if you don’t know.”

“Right. I suppose we’ll work around it then.”

Sherlock’s eyes lit up. “Speaking of work, what have you got for me?”

His enthusiasm seemed to make up slightly for his sudden abandonment and Greg smiled, handing over a thick manila file. “Some real puzzlers in there this week-”

“This one’s the brother,” Sherlock slapped the sheet down on the desk, “This one’s the step-father...boss...girlfriend...ooh, this one looks interesting. Come along, John.”

“We’ll see you soon I guess.” The doctor smiled at Greg, who was staring at Sherlock like he either wanted to kiss him or punch him in the face.

“Yeah. Right.”

 

For three days they busied themselves with Sherlock’s ‘interesting’ homicide, running themselves ragged on the London streets. When Lestrade finally clapped the handcuffs on their killer John turned to Sherlock with a huge tired smile. “That turned out better than expected.”

“Hmm.” Sherlock frowned, clenching his fist in his coat pocket.

“Shall we get dinner to celebrate?”

“Chinese will be fine.”

John gave him an odd look for the sullen reply but didn’t say anything as Lestrade waved them off. They stopped by the restaurant and got it to go, walking the rest of the way to the house. John eyed Sherlock nervously as he spread everything over the kitchen table. The detective wasn’t doing any of his usual post-case things – no gloating, no fevered explanations, no pouting and whining he was past ready for the next one. He just sat quietly at the table glaring at the opposite chair.

“Merry will be here in a few days. Have you planned out what you’re going to do?”

“I’ve set up a system for lessons, and I hope to make a few excursions each stay.”

“Maybe you could have Mrs Hudson over again, she’d probably love to see everyone.”

“Hmm.” He murmured, still looking dejected.

“Sherlock, I know you two were just getting to know each other but Meredith will be back soon, and you’ll get to see her on a regular basis. I miss her too but she’ll be here before you know it.”

“It is ridiculous to miss someone who’s not even a real person yet.” The other man griped.

“Sherlock…you are allowed to miss your daughter. It doesn’t make you ordinary.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

“Well emotions aren’t your strong suit but I think in this case you’re on the right track.”

He nodded dourly and gave John a grateful smile.

“Hey, why don’t you call her? You’ve got Moriarty’s number.”

“You think I could?” Sherlock was still frowning but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“Jenna called to check in when Merry was here, why shouldn’t you do the same? You’ve got equal right to.”

Sherlock hugged John hard and fast, running off to retrieve his phone. The doctor stood in the kitchen and cleared his throat roughly. Everything about this just got weirder and weirder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The three-way chess game with the double checkmate was something I actually witnessed irl. It was just as surprising as it sounds here, believe me.


	2. Chapter 2

The phone call seemed to sustain Sherlock for the remaining days. His excitement was palpable, the detective practically humming as he flitted around getting everything ready. He was putting far more effort into boring normal tasks than John had ever seen. It was sort of nice not to be the only one doing the shopping or the laundry (though Sherlock still wouldn’t clean).

On the appointed day Sherlock spent the entire morning in the lounge room playing his violin, eyes locked on the front door. From one onwards he sat in his armchair tapping the bow against his leg.

“Did you want a cuppa?” John asked.

“No time.”

“Sherlock, don’t be a prat. Having a cup of tea will not change the time Merry gets here.”

He scowled but put down the bow and sauntered towards the kitchen. He was almost there when there was a knock at the door.

“Aha!” Sherlock declared triumphantly, hurrying into the hall with John staring after him dumbfounded.

Sebastian stood outside shielding Meredith from the street when he opened it.

“Hi, Da!” she barreled forward, throwing her arms around his waist.

Overcome by his impatience Sherlock scooped her up into his arm. “Hello, Merry. I missed you.”

“I missed you too.”

Sebastian handed over the backpack and Sherlock raised a brow. “Anything I should know?”

“Nope. See you in a week Mer, okay?”

“Bye Bastian!”

Sherlock closed the door and set her down. “Let’s say hello to John and then we’ll put your things away.”

She skipped ahead of him to the kitchen. John’s grin made him look five years younger when he saw her. “Welcome back, Merry!”

“Hi, Uncle John.” She kissed his cheek.

“Did you have a good week?”

“Yeah, Ma taught me all about plants and some of Da’s German and we went to a restaurant that looked like a hedge maze.”

“Wow!”

“Wanna see a picture? Ma said I could leave one here of her and take back one of Da.”

“That was thoughtful of her.” Sherlock said with some surprise.

Meredith unzipped the backpack still in his hands and pulled out a small framed photo of Jenna in a sort of garden. She wore a tight navy sundress and large glasses, and she was smiling at Meredith sitting beside her.

“You both look lovely.” John smiled.

“Go find a place for it in your room, Merry.” Sherlock waved her away.

As soon as she was gone John whistled. “Fuck, Sherlock. You never said Moriarty was a looker.”

“Do you think that makes a difference?” he raised a brow, “Meredith is clearly the product of two exceptional parents. I don’t know why you’re so surprised.”

“Well no, but geez. Good job.”

 

They had dinner and watched a movie Meredith had brought with her about some kind of garbage robot that didn’t talk. Sherlock didn’t find it particularly fascinating but the feel of Meredith curled up beside him on the couch was nice, comforting after being away from her. He thought he caught John snickering at them a couple of times but chose to ignore it.

When the DVD ended Sherlock patted her leg. “Bedtime.”

“Aw, can’t I stay up just a little longer?”

He gave John a wary glance. “Apparently not.”

“Sherlock...”

“Definitely not. Come on, let’s get you changed.”

She complained the whole way upstairs, drooping so her whole body slumped forward. Sherlock found her some pyjamas and wrestled them on despite Meredith doing as little as possible to help. He prodded her under the covers and sat on the edge.

“Shall we keep going with _Ivanhoe_?”

“Yes!”

He read another few chapters, watching from the corner of his eye to gauge when she stopped listening. Her breathing slowed, eyes shut, and Sherlock closed the book with a smile. He kissed her head, turned on the lamp and closed the door on his way out.

John was at the top of the stairs and he gave a weary nod. “I’m off to bed.”

“You’re working tomorrow?”

“Yeah. You’ll be alright?”

“Of course.”

Sherlock changed and climbed into bed. He knew he should get some sleep because Meredith would most likely wake early and even though Sherlock was used to running on empty, he wanted to stay alert. But it was much too early by his standards so he picked up a text he’d found on cooking for children and sat back to memorise it.

He’d been reading for about half an hour when the door crept open just a crack. He raised a brow and listened. He couldn’t see or hear anyone but he knew she was there. “You’re supposed to be in bed.”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Meredith pushed the door open and stepped in.

Sherlock sighed and lifted back his sheets. “Come on then.”

She smiled almost smugly and wriggled in beside him, shoving herself under his arm. “What are you reading?”

“Recipes. Why can’t you sleep?”

“There’s too much to think about!”

He snorted. “I am familiar with the problem. Why don’t you tell me some of it?”

 

After two days of lessons Sherlock was ready for their first venture outside without John. The doctor was working but he assured Sherlock he’d come straight away if something happened.

“Please,” the detective scoffed, “I think we can survive without you for a few hours, right Merry?”

“I’ll look after him, Uncle John.” She said solemnly.

“That’s my girl. Be good, both of you!” he shut the door behind him.

Sherlock packed her bag as he remembered John doing for the zoo and got her thoroughly rugged up.

“Where are we going, Da?”

“To visit Mrs Hudson. I thought you might like to see where Uncle John and I used to live.”

“Okay.”

They were in a cab on the way to Baker Street when Sherlock’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered huffily. “Lestrade, I told you not to bother calling this week.”

“I know, but we’ve had something really funny come into the Bart’s lab and I need you to take a look.”

“No.”

“Please Sherlock, don’t make me beg. It could help a lot of people.”

Sherlock sighed. “Those people are not my priority right now.”

“It’ll take five minutes. Please!”

He looked at Meredith uneasily. “How do you feel about a quick detour, Merry?”

“Will it be fun?”

“You’ll get to see a hospital lab.”

“Yes! Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!”

“I will be there in five minutes,” he hung up and tapped on the glass, “Change of destination.”

They pulled up at the hospital and Sherlock took a firm grip on Meredith’s hand. They got into the lift with a nurse Sherlock vaguely recognised as working near the morgue.

“Hello then, aren’t you sweet!” she beamed.

“Thank you.” Meredith answered with a sort of fake polite tone that reminded Sherlock of himself.

“She’s yours?”

“Ah, yes.”

“She looks just like you.” The nurse crinkled her nose.

“So I’m told.”

The woman gave him a look he’d never gotten before and Sherlock smiled awkwardly, hustling Meredith out through the doors. She held his hand tightly and when Sherlock looked up he was getting it again, this time from an admissions clerk. Sherlock sped up, rushing to the lab before anyone else tried to strike up a conversation.

When he got there Lestrade and Molly were standing over a microscope talking softly. They both looked up as Sherlock entered.

“Ah,” Greg sighed loudly, “Now we can...who’s this?”

Sherlock looked down at the girl. She’d edged slightly closer to his leg, resting her head against his hip, but it was more caution than shyness. “This is Meredith. My daughter.”

Molly gave a quick hysterical laugh that she cut off immediately. Lestrade gaped like he’d just said he had a third arm. “Your what?”

“My daughter. And we were supposed to be having a day out, so if we could get on with it?”

Molly seemed to have recovered enough to stop staring but she still babbled as she walked around the counter. “Hi sweetheart. My name’s Molly. Do you want to sit with me while your dad helps Inspector Lestrade?”

“I’d rather look at the specimens.” Meredith said flatly.

Sherlock frowned. “I think that depends on what they are.”

Lestrade shook his head to clear it. “Virus.”

“Meredith, will you please wait in the hall outside with Molly?”

“Daaaaaa!”

“Now.”

She huffed but went out, Molly looking back at him with a sort of despair that made him thoroughly uncomfortable. Sherlock stripped off his coat and went to the microscope, determined to get this over as quickly as possible.

“What am I looking at?”

“Some new kind of weapon. It’s killed four people in as many hours. We managed to get a sample of the dormant virus from the last corpse but we’ve got no idea what it is. Is she really your daughter?”

“Yes. Any idea how it’s being spread?”

“Gas canisters, we’re looking into their origins now. Is this the reason you can’t take cases?”

“I have recently begun sharing custody with her mother. Did the victims experience any warning symptoms?”

“Her mother?”

“No one you need worry about.”

“Huh. They didn’t have time for symptoms, our only witness says it happened in under a minute.”

“Hmm. Give me one moment.”

 

Sherlock walked into the corner of the lab and pulled out his phone, dialling Jen’s number.

“I’m a bit busy right now, Sherly. Is everything alright?”

“Do you know anything about gas canisters of a new viral poison?”

“Would I tell you if I did?”

“I’m supposed to be taking Meredith to Baker Street and I do not have time to waste on this, so if you know anything I’d appreciate-”

“I do, Sherly. It’s not mine but I know the man.”

“Right. Anything you want to share?”

“I’m handling it.”

“Oh, it’s like that?”

“Yes.”

“At least give me something for them. They’ll need to start work on an antidote or a vaccine.”

“I’ll give you one equation but only because Mer shouldn’t be left in the hospital too long. It’s too public.”

“Thank you.” He hung up and waited for the text, scribbling it on a piece of paper and thrusting it at Greg.

“What’s this?”

“Molly will know what to do with it. I need to go.”

“That’s it? What was that phone call?”

“I can’t share all my secrets. Rest assured that you’re not the only people looking for this killer.”

“Sherlock, we’ve discussed withholding information!”

“You dragged me in here on a day I’m spending with my daughter. I have given you my time and my help, and I think that’s enough don’t you?”

Lestrade stared for a moment before snorting. “Right. Sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re taking this pretty seriously, yeah?”

“Of course.”

“If you need to talk to anyone about it, I’ve got two of my own-”

“I think I can figure it out.” Sherlock tugged his coat back on.

“Sure. Thanks for this.” Greg held up the formula.

Sherlock headed for the door and stopped. “Do people look at you strangely when you’re out with your daughters?”

“What do you mean strangely?”

“The nurses...they keep giving me this odd smile I don’t understand.”

Greg chuckled. “It’s a girly smitten thing. They see you being a good dad and it makes them all gooey.”

The taller man made a noise and accompanying grimace of disgust. “How pedestrian.”

He went into the hall and found Molly and Meredith sitting in a pair of waiting chairs, the girl chattering excitedly. He walked over and smiled thinly.

“Let’s get going, Merry.”

“Okay.”

“It was nice to meet you, Meredith.” Molly smiled.

“Bye Dr Molly.”

Molly gave Sherlock a wistful look and headed for the lab, head down. Sherlock made a step in the opposite direction but Meredith’s hand pulled him back.

“What is it?”

“I like Dr Hooper.”

“Oh. Yes. Come along.”

“You should be nicer to her.”

Sherlock raised his brows. “Oh?”

“She’s sad inside.”

“Did she say something to you?”

“I could just tell.” Meredith squeezed his hand and walked towards the lifts.

Sherlock frowned but shook it off. He didn’t need a child telling him to try harder – did he? “How about I invite her for dinner sometime this week then?”

“You should,” She nodded seriously, “But you have to be nice.”

“I’m nice!”

She gave him a withering look and hit the down button.

*****

Before Meredith’s next visit Sherlock and John sat down and had a very tense conversation. Their initial discussion only lasted an hour but for days afterwards they kept debating the merits of different options, until finally Sherlock agreed to compromise and John caved a bit and they met somehow sort of not quite in the middle.

When Sebastian dropped her off Sherlock stopped her removing her coat. “You’ll need that a little longer.”

“We’re going out?”

“For a quick errand.”

The three of them piled into a cab and turned down what looked like random winding streets until it stopped at a strip of shops. Sherlock paid and they got out, Meredith automatically taking both their hands. “Where are we going?”

Sherlock gestured to the place in front of them and she gasped. “We thought you might like a pet.”

“A pet?”

“Something cute and cuddly.” John smiled.

“Though it doesn’t have to be,” Sherlock glared at him, “It can be anything you want.”

“Not anything.” John muttered.

“Oh thank you thank you thank you!” she tugged them excitedly towards the door.

Once inside Meredith let go, looking up at Sherlock questioningly.

“Stay in sight.”

She zipped over to the wall of puppies and John raised his hand. “No dogs!”

“Aw!”

“Uncle John’s right. We don’t have a yard.”

She moved on to fish instead. They didn’t hold her interest long though, and she moved on to birds (Sherlock winced), mice (John shuddered) and reptiles (John screwed up his face but didn’t complain). She quickly discounted the ferrets, rabbits and guinea pigs.

“Do you see anything you like?” Sherlock asked softly.

Meredith shook her head, sticking out her bottom lip. She wandered further into the shop and stopped suddenly. “Her!”

‘Her’ was a tiny, tiny kitten. She had long white fur and brown patches around her eyes and mouth, and was currently trying to eat Meredith’s finger through the glass.

“You want her?” Sherlock asked.

“Yes!”

“John, find a cashier.”

Fifteen minutes later they were back in a cab with bagfuls of food, kitty litter, toys and blankets while Meredith held the kitten’s box on her lap and cooed to it.

“What are you gonna call it, Merry?”

“Hmm...Schrodinger.”

Sherlock snorted. “Maybe not, dear.”

“Siobhan?”

“Siobhan it is then.”

 

Meredith couldn’t wait to tell her mother. Sherlock listened as she extolled the kitten’s virtues and beauty for a good fifteen minutes before passing him the phone. “Ma wants to talk to you.”

“Okay. Why don’t you go see what Uncle John’s doing?”

She scampered off and he raised the handset.

“Jen?”

It sounded like she was clutching her phone so hard it might break. “A kitten, Sherlock? What possessed you to think that was a good idea!”

“I am informed children need pets to teach them responsibility.”

“Then you are completely unaware I am allergic to cats?”

“She lives at our house. I fail to see the problem.”

Jen groaned and hung up, and the next time Sebastian came to get Meredith he brought a change of clothes she had to put on before they left.

John and Sherlock quickly learned that without Meredith around, Siobhan considered herself mistress of the house. The kitten no bigger than Sherlock’s head began an unbelievable reign of terror, swiping at John’s feet in the night or sneaking into Sherlock’s lab to nap on the Petri dishes, climbing onto the kitchen counters to lap at their tea when John had his back turned. He always shoved her out of the room angrily, but somehow when they were watching TV she would find her way into Sherlock’s lap and his hand would drift unnoticed to stroke her head, the soft purr comforting without a child’s noise in the house.

*****

It was the middle of Meredith’s week with Jen when Sherlock was woken by an urgent knock. He got up, pulling on his robe with a frown. By the time he opened his door John was already edging down the stairs carefully. The two men exchanged a glance and Sherlock followed at a distance, hugging the wall as John opened the door.

“Merry?”

Sherlock hurried forward as Jen carried the sleeping girl inside, Sebastian right at their heels with his gun openly out.

“What’s wrong?” the detective asked.

“I need you to take Mer for the next few days.”

“Is she in danger?”

“No but I might be. Remember that virus in the gas canisters?”

“Yes.”

“Well its creator and I are having a small feud over his right to use it without permission. I need to leave Meredith somewhere safe.”

“Of course. Should we wake her?”

“No. It will upset her if she knows she was moved so quickly. In the morning you can tell her I had to drop her off early for a business meeting.”

“Here.” Sherlock opened his arms.

Jen transferred Meredith gently into his hold and Sherlock carried her upstairs. John watched wide-eyed as Jen straightened her coat. “You’re Moriarty.”

“And you’re Dr Watson – so glad to finally meet you.”

“What the hell did someone like you see in Sherlock?”

She laughed prettily. “We have a lot in common.”

The detective came back downstairs quietly, stopping close enough he didn’t have to raise his voice above a whisper. “I put her in my room so she doesn’t panic later.”

“Good idea.”

“When will you be back?”

“It’s close enough to your week that she can stay. I’ll try to check in, keep you posted.”

He nodded grimly.

“Relax, Sherly. You’re not worried about me, are you?” she stroked his cheek with a gloved hand.

“I am worried for her sake.”

“I’ll be just fine.”

She nodded to Sebastian and the two of them walked out to a waiting car. John locked and bolted the door, breathing harshly.

“So that was Moriarty? She’s sort of terrifying, isn’t she?” he chuckled half-heartedly.

“Goodnight, John.”

“Right, yes, goodnight.”

 

Sherlock couldn’t get back to sleep properly after that, instead holding Meredith tightly as he thought. What could be so serious Jen needed Meredith out of the line of fire? She didn’t like to get her hands dirty. The chances anyone but Sherlock, John, Mycroft and Sebastian even knew Moriarty was a woman were slim to none.

He felt Meredith waking up, her limbs squirming against his. Sherlock loosened his grip and moved back so she would see his face straight away, rather than wake up in unfamiliar arms. Meredith blinked and sat up quickly, but as soon as she recognised him her face smoothed out.

“Da?”

“Hi, Merry.”

“Why am I here? It’s not time yet.”

“Your mum had to drop you off early this morning. She has a very important meeting and she thought we might want to spend a few extra days together.”

“Oh. But she’s okay?”

“Just fine. She’s going to call later.”

“Alright.” She said, sounding unconvinced.

“Do you want to see Siobhan? I’ll find her.”

He got up and searched the second floor for the white fluffball before padding downstairs and finding her under his armchair. Sherlock wrestled her out, arms getting covered in scratches as he carried her back to his room. He dumped the cat on the bed and Meredith beamed, dragging her into a hug. Siobhan immediately started purring and rubbing herself against the girl affectionately. Sherlock scowled at the cantankerous creature.

“Merry, I’m just going to check on Uncle John. Will you be okay here?”

“Sure Da.”

He walked into the hall but didn’t go near John’s room, instead sitting on the stairs to the next level and taking out his phone.

_I think Moriarty’s in trouble. I need to know everything you’ve heard about a biological warfare specialist recently operating in the city - SH_

 

John and Sherlock tried to keep Meredith’s spirits up and prove there was nothing to worry about, but it was hard when they themselves didn’t believe it. Things had to be pretty bad for Jen to be concerned, but the most they could do was keep Meredith calm and hope Jen called soon.

It was after six before Sherlock’s phone rang, three sets of eyes flicking to where it lay on the coffee table. Meredith took off at a run but Sherlock had longer legs and he got there first. “Hello?”

“Sherlock, I don’t have time for more than a quick chat.”

“Everything’s good?”

“Yes and no. Mostly no. Put Mer on.”

He handed her the phone and sat in his armchair as she listened to her mother, answering the odd question. She nodded at something and handed the phone back.

“Jen?”

“I think I’ve convinced her everything’s normal but you need to work on it from your end.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow if I can.”

She hung up and Sherlock looked at Meredith, who did seem more composed than before. He tried a smile. “Would you like to have Uncle Mycroft over for dinner?”

“Sure!”

“And maybe tomorrow we could have Molly come by for the day?”

Meredith gave a nod of approval that made Sherlock feel very small and he pulled out his phone to invite Mycroft.

 

Molly smiled sort of awkwardly when Sherlock opened the door.

“Hi.”

“Hello. Please come in.”

She took off her coat and hung it by the door, smoothing her hair behind her ear. "Wow, Sherlock. This place is amazing."

“Thank you. Meredith’s in her room, if you’d like to go up and see her.”

“Of course. It’s just upstairs?”

“Far left corner.”

She headed up and Sherlock went into the kitchen to find John. He put the kettle on and started taking out mugs.

“Jenna still hasn’t called?”

John shook his head. “You don’t think something’s wrong, do you?”

“Mycroft said some concerning things. I know Jen has considerable resources but if this man’s specifically targeting her-”

There was another knock, urgent and repeated quickly. Sherlock frowned and ran for the front door, John right behind him. He opened the door and Jenna pushed her way past, Sebastian behind her with a huge cut along his brow.

“Hi, Sherly.”

“Jen? What are you doing here? It’s the middle of the day.”

“Funny story – we had a bit of a kerfuffle and Seb needs his head stitched up. Where’s Meredith?”

“Upstairs with Molly.”

“Let’s keep it that way for now. Doctor, will you tend to Bastian while I have a quick word to Sherlock?”

“Sure. My kit’s in the kitchen.”

The two men walked off and Jen watched until they were out of earshot before pulling Sherlock into the linen cupboard.

“I take it you ran into the scientist?”

“He’s dead.” She said flatly.

“Ah. Good. And other than Sebastian’s injury you’re both okay?”

“Not so much,” Jenna took off her coat and unbuttoned her cuff, rolling up the sleeve to show a large puncture wound in her forearm, “That bastard got me. I’m dying, Sherly.”

He frowned at her arm for a moment before blinking. “You’re what?”

“It’s not the same virus he gave the others: something slower, experimental I think. I’d imagine it should kill me within the next day.”

“What about an antidote?”

“Why do you think I came here?”

Sherlock bit his lip. He could let Jenna die and rid the world of one more criminal, but then what would Meredith do? It wasn’t like there was a plethora of alternate female role models around him and John. He met Jen’s eyes and saw the distrust there. “I’ll have John keep Molly and Meredith in her room until we make it to the lab. We’ll have to work fast. I assume Sebastian has things to tend to? He can use my room.”

“Go, go.” Jen waved him on.

He quickly relayed his instructions to John and Sebastian in the kitchen, the ex-colonel’s head neatly bandaged. John went upstairs first before Sherlock retrieved Jen and the two of them half-carried her up the stairs. Sebastian peeled away silently and the two geniuses continued on, Sherlock locking the lab door once they were inside.

“Roll up your sleeve, I’ll need a blood sample.”

She complied, watching him prep a syringe. “I’m certainly glad I set up this spiffy lab now.”

“Tell me exactly what you know about this creator and his work. Substances in his lab, previous history, everything that might be significant.”

He stuck her with the needle and she glowered at him before settling back. “Dr Emmanuel Lodestone. He studied at Bart’s, actually, specialising in bacterial infections. He started tailor-making little goodies for some of his poker pals – give their wives allergic reactions to keep them out of the way, that sort of thing. He expanded.”

“The lab?”

“High quality - also burnt to a crisp. Pass me a sheet of paper and I’ll list as much as I can remember.”

Sherlock put a drop of Moriarty’s blood on a slide and slid it into the microscope. He adjusted the dials, peering through.

“How’s it looking, doc?”

“It’s not good. Your T-cells are attacking everything in sight.”

“Oh wonderful.”

“Get working on that list.” He tossed a pen and pad towards her.

She scribbled quickly, neat lines scrawling over the page.

“You should have gone to a hospital.”

“They wouldn’t have known what to do with me.”

“They could have given you something to slow the effects.”

“Like what?”

He sighed and focused on the slide again.

 

They’d been working silently for two hours. Sherlock was testing different chemicals against samples of blood while Moriarty ran formulas faster than even Sherlock could keep up with, the numbers filling page after page. Sherlock snuck a glance at her. She was soaked in sweat, face pale and drawn. He got up to fetch her a glass of water.

“I should call Mycroft.”

“No.”

“Jen, if we don’t find a way to slow this down you’ll die. The tests can’t go any faster.”

“I won’t let the Ice Man come within one inch of me, even if it kills me.”

“Don’t be selfish.”

She snorted at him, brows arched. “My god, Sherly. Fatherhood’s changed you.”

“And motherhood has apparently done nothing for you whatsoever.”

“You have no idea.” her eyes flashed.

“No, because you didn’t see fit to tell me.”

“Aw, don’t be cross, Sherly dear. I don’t think you would have made a great dad from rehab.”

He pursed his lips but didn’t argue the point, focusing on the blood.

They worked on, various sounds floating up from downstairs. Sherlock checked the clock and winced. “I need to check on the others. Will you be okay?”

“I doubt I’ll pass on in the next five minutes, Sherlock.”

“I’ll be quick.”

He took the stairs two at a time, sticking his head into his own room first. Sebastian had a tablet in his lap, flicking through what looked like bank accounts.

“How’s the boss?”

“Can’t really say.”

“Have you got something for her?”

“I’m working on it. Do you need anything?”

“I’m good. Just get back to her.”

He went on to the next room. John and Meredith were going over a book of anatomy with Molly. “Hi.”

“Where have you been, Da?” Meredith frowned.

“Da has a bit of work to do. He needs to borrow Uncle John for a moment, if that’s okay with Molly?”

“Sure. I need to leave in about fifteen minutes though.”

“It won’t take long.”

John could see the feverish tinge to Sherlock’s gaze as he tried to come across normal. He stood. “Keep going girls, I’ll be right back.”

He closed the door behind him. “What is it?”

“Get your kit from the kitchen and meet me in the lab. Don’t let the others see you.”

“Alright.”

Sherlock jogged back up, eyes flying to Moriarty. She had her head against the desk. “Jen?”

“Just groggy, Sherl.”

“John’s coming to take a look at you. I think I’m close to determining what it is.”

She nodded feebly and he applied himself to his samples, trying to ignore her. John started when he walked into the lab and saw her there, but his doctors’ instincts kicked in and he went straight into his examination. He gave Sherlock a couple more observations to work with and stepped back.

“It’s doing a number on your immune system. I can give you something to pep it up but it won’t delay the damage long.”

“Do it.” She leaned her head on her hand.

“And then you’ll need to go downstairs and keep Meredith away from here.” Sherlock said soberly.

“Of course.”

“Keep her out of my room too – Sebastian’s in there.”

“I’ll find something to distract her.”

Jenna gave him a thankful nod and his brows shot up, but he didn’t say anything as he gave her the injection.

 

“It’s tuberculosis.”

“Hmm?” Jen looked up from her numbers.

“Lodestone’s got his hands on a sub-strain and turned it into a rampant form that bypasses the infection stage and goes straight to dissolving your immune system. It could destroy your organs in twelve hours.”

She glanced at her watch. “It’s been eight.”

“Should give us enough time to put something together.”

“You can’t possibly create something like that in this little lab.” She shook her head.

“So you’re giving up, is that it?”

“No.” Moriarty said tartly.

“Then hold on.” He pulled out his phone and hit the speed dial.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling Mycroft. If anyone in the country has the right antibiotics it will be him.”

Moriarty smacked the phone out of his hand and he glared at her.

“I told you, no government!”

“You don’t have a choice!”

They glared at each other for a moment before she folded her arms and looked away. “Call the bastard then. See if I care.”

He picked up the phone and dialled.

“Sherlock?”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully.”

“Go on.”

“Jenna Moriarty has been injected with a very advanced, very fast-moving case of TB. She’ll be dead in four hours unless you bring me the correct combination of antibiotics.”

Mycroft was quiet for a moment and Sherlock frowned.

“Mycroft?”

“You want me to share government vaccines with you to save a known and dangerous criminal?”

“No. I want you to give it to me because she’s the known and dangerous mother of my child.”

“Meredith has you.”

“For God’s sake, put aside Queen and country for a moment and try to put the family first, Mycroft!”

Jen slapped his arm. “Tell him I’ll hand over one prominent client.”

“Jen will give you information.”

He could hear his brother thinking through the phone and sighed.

“I will owe you three favours.”

There was a stiff cough. “I don’t need favours to help you, Sherlock. They’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Do not mention Moriarty’s name.”

“Thank you.”

“What else am I for?”

 

After ten minutes Sherlock pushed the hair out of Jenna’s flushed face. “I’ll be right back. Do not move.”

She nodded limply, breath rattling in her throat. He bounded down the stairs, cursing Mycroft even though he knew the traffic wasn’t his brother’s fault. Still, he could have arranged all green lights easily enough. He was hovering by the front door when someone knocked quietly. Sherlock yanked it open to find two black-suited men with cooler bags.

“Come quickly and do not let anyone see you.”

They nodded in understanding and followed him up the stairs. He rushed them through the second floor to the lab and opened the door. Jenna was sitting on her stool but it was a close thing. One of the men went over and shone a light in her eyes, her pupils moving sluggishly.

“Isoniazid and Rifampicin, now.” He muttered.

His companion threw open a bag, pulling out several vials. Sherlock loitered at their shoulder. “It’s a mutated version of the bacteria. It’s working fast – we don’t have the months a proper cure will take.”

“We can give her something powerful but it’s going to take it out of her.”

“So long as it doesn’t kill me.” Jen mumbled.

Sherlock froze. Mycroft wouldn’t have sent assassins rather than doctors, would he? They looked like normal civilians, but then so did John and he’d shot a cabbie within a day of meeting Sherlock. He ran another eye over them but couldn’t deduce anything threatening about them. The first doctor hastily prepared two different needles of high dosage and held them out. Jenna swayed on her stool and fell.

“Jen!” Sherlock dropped to his knees, batting her face.

“She’s going into organ failure.”

“Give her the shot!”

The doctor jabbed her hard enough to bruise before snatching the second shot and injecting it into her other elbow. He pressed a finger to her pulse. “Steadying, but not ideal. Get me a booster.”

The assistant drew it into a fresh syringe and passed it over. This one was inserted a bit more gently, the clear fluid disappearing into her veins.

“Is that it? She’ll be okay?” Sherlock asked.

“Hard to tell with a mutated virus. She’ll still need months of recovery time, probably constant check-ups. It might be a good idea to give her a week to level out before another course of antibiotics, just to be sure.”

“We’ll set you up with an IV.”

“Thank you.”

They nodded sharply and exchanged a glance. “Sir…”

“I think I can take it from here.”

 

He told Sebastian to bring Jen down to his room for the night. He had no delusions that Jenna would want to recuperate in his house, especially with Mycroft around, but they couldn’t move her now. The bodyguard carried her in delicately, laying her on Sherlock’s mattress. He stripped off her jewellery and outer jacket.

“I’ll fetch a towel, clean her up a bit.”

Sherlock nodded and took the IV needle out of its packet, kneeling by the bed to stick it in the back of her hand. She gave him a dazed smile.

“Hey…what did I miss Sherly?”

He fought down a grin. “Nothing special.”

“You’re planning to stab me?” she eyed the needle, "Buy a girl dinner first."

“You need the nutrients. You’re balancing on the edge as it is.”

The door opened behind him and Sherlock’s head snapped up.

“If there’s liver damage you’ll need something to support her immune system while she recovers. Most common poisons are effective because they limit the body’s ability to filter them out. Was it arsenic?”

Sherlock stared at Meredith for a moment before raising a brow archly at her mother.

“Oops.” Jenna smiled wryly.

“We are going to have a very long conversation after this about what is appropriate to teach a four year old.” He repositioned the needle grimly.

“Rich, coming from you.” Jen winced as it broke her skin.

“Are you okay, Ma?” the girl said tearily.

“Just fine, darling. A bit rundown but Da made it all better.”

Meredith looked at Sherlock uncertainly as he clipped in the bag and hung it from the headboard. Jen tapped the mattress next to her.

“Come on, come give Ma a hug.”

She clambered onto the bed and curled up against Moriarty as Sebastian came back in with a bowl of water and a flannel.

“Want to help me clean Ma up, Mer?” he asked.

She nodded and took the offered cloth, dunking it in the basin before wringing it out and dabbing Jen’s chest gently.

“Oh, that’s good my angel.”

John came running in and stopped, leaning heavily on the door.

“I thought you were keeping her out of the way.” Sherlock scowled.

“She got away from me! I’m not as fit as I used to be you know.”

“Don’t grouse Sherly. We’re all well and good.” Jenna kissed her daughter’s head.

Sebastian’s brown darkened. “For now.”

 

Sherlock insisted John check her over before she was allowed to leave and Jenna consented with a mocking grace. Meredith wouldn’t leave her side but the criminal slept for hours at a time and Sherlock could see how exhausted she was when she did wake.

“Are you going to get her a carer?” Sherlock asked Sebastian.

“And let some new person see her vulnerable? Not likely. She’d kill me the second I wasn’t looking.”

“You can’t run her affairs and watch her.”

“We’ll get along.”

“Well you can’t do all that and look after Meredith.”

Jen yawned. “I couldn’t agree more, Sherly. I’m in no condition to keep up with her lessons. Would you take her for a few months?”

He raised his brows. “She’s not going to like that.”

“She can visit, but I’ll be better much faster for some solitude.”

“I’ll take her, that’s not even a question. But you have to explain why.”

“I’ll flip you for it.”

“We’ll do it _together_.”

“Deal.”

“And you can stay here again tonight while Sebastian sets up things at your place.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.”

“Stubborn old grump.” She complained, but she was smiling at him.

Meredith wasn’t happy but she was smart enough to understand, and after a tearful goodbye and a few days of sulking she was content to stay with Sherlock and John and Siobhan as long as necessary.

 *****

Months passed and their daily life became routine. Sherlock would get up and dress before helping Meredith do the same. John made breakfast because Sherlock handled dinner. The doctor would go to work and the two Holmes would spend several hours on her schoolwork before either going out, or just messing about with books and games and telly. Sherlock had a much broader knowledge of the solar system than before. Mycroft came for dinner twice a week; Sebastian collected Meredith every Friday night to spend the weekend with Jenna . Meredith had a pretty capable grip on German and was getting there with violin. He’d bought her one more suited to her size and the two would play side by side for hours; John didn’t complain but he didn’t encourage them either. After six months Sherlock could hardly believe there was a time when the mess in his flat was bills and empty tea cups instead of abandoned dolls and pink hair pins (not to mention the now completely spherical bad-tempered cat that always seemed to be on his armchair when he tried to sit on it).

They were playing a lazy game of Scrabble in the kitchen. John was off with his latest girlfriend; Meredith’s arrival in their lives had pretty much ended his ability to bring girls home but it had also to some degree stopped Sherlock complaining when he went on dates. There was a knock at the door and Sherlock stood.

“No looking at my tiles while I’m gone.”

Meredith grinned mischievously. “I’ll be good.”

“Hmm,” He made a face at her before heading into the hall. He opened the door and blinked in shock. “Jenna.”

She looked thinner than before but her skin was a good colour, and she seemed stable. She smiled. “Have you missed me, Sherly?”

“I’m glad to see you looking well.”

“Trust me, if I could kill Lodestone twice I would.”

“Does this mean you want to take Meredith home?”

“I’d like to keep her for awhile. A month or so, just to catch up.”

“That’s fine. I could use a good break – I haven’t had a case since before your incident.”

“You must be dying!”

“Not quite. Almost.”

She winked and he looked over his shoulder.

“Merry! You’ve got a visitor!”

She came bounding out of the kitchen and burst into a giant smile when she spotted her mother, tearing across the carpet. The girl flung herself onto Jenna, the criminal chuckling.

“Hi Mer. I missed you too.”

“We shouldn’t keep you on your feet too long though. Go pack your bag Merry and you can take Ma home and put her back in bed.”

“Bed, ugh. I’m so sick of that place. And I’ve got more needle marks than a junkie.”

Sherlock shot her a look over Meredith’s head but Jenna looked pointedly at his arms and he dropped it.

“You have to let go now, Mer. Just for a few minutes.”

The girl took off up the stairs and Jenna leaned in conspiratorially. “We need to talk about her birthday.”

“Oh?”

“It’s in two weeks.”

“She’ll be with you.”

“I thought we’d go out for a family dinner.”

“Sounds great.”

“I’ll text you the details.”

 

Mycroft was obviously not invited to dinner, though he did say Jenna had sent him a muffin basket with a flash drive full of names as a thank you. He gave Sherlock his present for Meredith, and John and the detective went alone to the restaurant Jen had picked. It was a nice family place, the criminal more casual than Sherlock had ever seen her in a t-shirt and long flowing skirt. Sebastian looked hilariously out of place beside her, also dressed down but the scars on his face making his real occupation painfully clear. Meredith had a glittery pair of fairy wings on her back.

“Happy birthday, Merry.” Sherlock leaned down to hug her.

“Thanks, Da.”

“We got you a few things.” John gestured to the bag in his hand.

“Why don’t you tell me what Ma got you?” Sherlock sat next to her.

“I got a new telescope and a marble chess set and a Rembrandt and the complete biography of Frederick the Great.”

“Which Rembrandt?” John said under his breath, looking at Jen.

“At a guess I’d say the one reported missing last week.” Sherlock muttered back.

“Shall we eat?” Jenna smiled brightly.

They placed their order with the waitress and John set the bag of presents next to Meredith. The first was Mycroft’s, wrapped in plain silver paper with no name to indicate who it was for. Jen shot Sherlock a look but he nodded once to indicate he’s already checked the contents and it was both safe and surveillance-free. The girl peeled back the paper with more precision and patience than he’d expected from a five-year-old.

“What have you got, Mer?”

It was a small plastic card on top of a thin square book. Meredith handed the card to her mother while she opened the album.

“A lifetime pass to all major museums and galleries in London,” Jenna looked amused, “Uncle Mycroft’s been pulling strings again.”

“What’s the book, Merry?” John leaned in.

Sherlock recognised a photo of himself and Mycroft as children, the elder Holmes holding a toddler-sized Sherlock in his lap. “It’s our family photo album.”

“Is that you, Da?”

“Yes, and that’s Uncle Mycroft and your grandmother.”

“I have a grandmother?” she tilted her head.

“Uh, yes.”

“Can I meet her?”

Sherlock and Jen looked at each other slightly panicked. He’d never once considered introducing the child to Mummy, mostly because he barely saw her. But the questions that would be asked...if people started poking around... “She lives in France, dear. Maybe when you’re older.”

John’s present, wrapped in rainbow balloon paper, was a _Kitchen Chemistry_ cookbook and a deck of Uno cards. Even Sebastian raised his eyes at that but the doctor shrugged. “You need more games based on chance or I’ll never win anything.”

“I like them, Uncle John.”

He blushed and fussed with his napkin.

Sherlock’s wasn’t wrapped but it became clear why when Meredith reached into the bag and pulled out a stuffed otter. She giggled and hugged it close.

“What are you going to call him?” Jen placed a hand on her arm.

“Otter.”

“Alright then.” Moriarty stifled a smile.

“There’s something else.” Sherlock fished his other present out of the bag and handed it to her.

It was a thin rectangular box, black velvet and flat. Meredith opened it and gasped. Inside was a short silver bracelet, the links made up of spiralling DNA genomes with coloured stones set as the bases.

“It’s beautiful!” she gushed, picking it up.

“I thought it might look nice on you.” Sherlock mumbled shyly.

“Look Ma!”

“Yes, it’s lovely. I’ll put it on for you – hold out your arm.”

Jen took the bracelet and opened the clasp, hesitating when she saw the small silver tag hanging at the end of the chain. It was engraved with an entwined J, S and M. She gave Sherlock a look that made him squirm even more as she fastened it around Meredith’s wrist.

“Sherlock Holmes, you big softie.”

“Oh look, our meals have arrived.” He pointedly turned away.

 

Meredith seemed thrilled having both parents in the same place at the same time; she could get two perspectives at once. John was surprised how well they were getting along actually, but he spent most of the night talking to Sebastian rather than try to understand half of what the others were saying. It seemed to flow through several different topics in a handful of languages, and the most he had was a passing grip on French he’d mostly forgotten since high school.

When they’d finished the waitress brought them Meredith’s cake. It was covered in white meringue frosting and had five silver candles on top, again with no name to indicate who it was for. They sung Happy Birthday in an awkward clash of tones and different levels of enthusiasm, but Meredith didn’t seem to mind. She leaned in and blew out the candles and they clapped, and it was so commonplace that Sherlock almost laughed.

“What did you wish for?” Jen asked as Sebastian cut the cake.

“If she tells you it won’t come true.” John protested.

“You never know, Dr Watson. Wishes have a way of working out for some lucky folk.” She winked at him.

“I wished for a little brother or sister.”

It was like the whole restaurant had gone silent. Sherlock knew that it hadn’t, could hear people talking at other tables, but the air of silence around them was so profound it seemed to deflect all other noise. Sebastian had frozen with the knife half in the cake. John’s mouth was stuck in some weird gape he’d clearly tried to hide and then failed. Jen and Sherlock were staring at each other with identical deer in the headlights expressions. He might have gotten better in the past few months dealing with children but this was way out of Sherlock’s league.

“Is that something you want?” Jen said slowly.

“Yes. I want a brother or sister like you and Da and Uncle John and Bastian have.”

“Well...it’s difficult Merry. Your mother and I aren’t together.”

“I know. That’s why I wished it.”

She seemed sort of resigned, like she knew it wasn’t going to happen. Sherlock thought back to his own childhood with Mycroft. The age difference had made itself apparent by the time he was as old as Meredith was now, but for awhile they had been playmates and it was nice. The sheer impracticality of it though was enough to make him clear his throat.

“Would you like some cake?”

Jenna gave him a wicked smile. “Don’t forget to take some for Uncle Mycroft.”

*****

Much to John’s credit he never tried to discuss Meredith’s birthday wish with Sherlock after the party. Maybe he just didn’t think it likely that either the detective or Moriarty would be interested – and he’d be right. Sherlock had Meredith sprung on him, and while he loved her dearly one child was more than he’d ever thought to have.

Meredith was in her fifth week with Jen and Sherlock had found himself a juicy case to keep him busy until her next stay. He’d followed his suspect disguised as a simple office worker in a white shirt and tie, hair brushed back into some semblance of order. The potential blackmailer had visited a grocery store near his house, dropped off some bags, and was now sitting in the pub drinking beer and staring at the racing on TV. Sherlock found a seat further down the bar and ordered a scotch and coke.

“Bit blue collar for you, isn’t it?”

He glared at Jenna as she sat beside him in an impossibly tight red dress, hair up. “What are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk to you, Sherly. Is that such a strange concept?”

“I’m busy.”

Jen’s eyes flicked to Sherlock’s target. “I can see that. Would you like me to solve the case for you now so you’re not distracted?”

He glowered at her and she laughed.

“Fine, I won’t spoil it. But we do need to talk, Sherlock. Your hunt can wait another night.”

“What do we need to talk about?”

“Would you mind ordering me a vodka tonic? I’m a tad parched.” She smirked.

He rolled his eyes but relayed it to the bartender, turning on his stool to examine her more closely. “Well go on, what’s so important it can’t wait?”

“Meredith’s request.”

He kept his face blank. “What about it?”

“I’ve never found siblings more than a bother, but that may have been because I was much, much cleverer than them. And I know you and Mikey have had your differences-”

“To put it mildly.”

“-but on the other hand it might be good for her to have some company her own age. It’s not like she could ever go to a normal school. Her socialization will suffer if she spends all her time with adults.”

“You’re actually contemplating this?”

“I’m weighing up the options, Sherly.”

“I just didn’t see you wanting...I mean Merry was an accident. Why did you even keep her?”

Jen smiled. “It was a fun idea at the time. Don’t get me wrong, I was livid when I found out I was pregnant, but then I thought about it and it seemed charming enough.”

“And you would really go through that again?”

“Why not?”

“The same reason you brought Merry to me in the first place. Being you is too dangerous.”

“Why should it even bother you, Sherly? You wouldn’t be the one who has to carry and birth the thing.”

“You can’t have a second child just to please the first! You need to love them both.”

Jenna raised her brows but didn’t comment on his outburst. “You know a year ago this conversation between us would have been unthinkable. You, me, calmly discussing our child in terms of love.”

“I suppose I’ve changed. Hopefully for the better.”

“You ought to know me well enough to know I wouldn’t play favourites, Sherlock. Now are you interested or not?”

He scowled. “Why are you even asking me? I’m sure Sebastian or half a dozen other men would happily oblige you. You could find a Nobel winner in one of those exclusive sperm banks.”

“No. It has to be you - it’s less messy, and believe it or not you’ve got a lot of useful traits to offer a child.”

He made a face. “I’m not sure about that last one.”

“Is this a sex thing, Sherly? Because if it helps I know a dealer that cuts his stuff just the way you like it.” She sung teasingly.

“It’s very much a sex thing. You are who you are, and while I may be able to justify to my brother a previous and unknowing liaison there is no way he will tolerate me impregnating an enemy of the Crown a second time.”

“You make it sound so romantic, Sherly. You must have to beat women off with a stick.”

He shot her a dirty look and threw back the last of his drink. “You say it’s less mess? I say it’s more.”

“Sherlock,” she laid a hand on his, voice suddenly earnest, “We both know it’s unlikely I’ll make it to old age. I want Meredith to have a chance at a family.”

“She’s got me and Mycroft.”

“And after you’re gone?”

“John will have children.”

“It’s not the same and you know it.”

“You’re asking me to do something that will attract trouble not only for me but for you, and possibly for Merry.”

“Sherlock, just answer me honestly. Do you want another child?”

He bit his lip. “I am not sure I’m capable of supervising two at once – especially an infant.”

“Do you _want_ one, not can or should you have one.”

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll have one.”

“How?”

She winked at him and slid off her stool. “When it comes to me, all things are possible.”

 

Sherlock decided not to wait to talk to John about it; he had too many conflicting thoughts jostling around his head. He left the extortionist at the bar and went home to find the doctor reading the paper in his armchair.

“Hello then. Any luck?”

“Sort of.”

“Sort of?” he looked up as Sherlock loosened his tie and sunk onto the couch.

“Jenna came to see me.”

“Oh?” John folded the broadsheet and tossed it aside, “What did she want?”

“She wants to have a baby. With me. Again.”

“What? Because of what Merry said?”

“Yes.”

“And you said...”

“I said it wasn’t a bad idea.”

He expected a lot of reactions: outrage, shock, indignation. Instead John folded his hands in his lap thoughtfully. “I’m no fan of Moriarty, but Meredith is an angel. And she’s been a very good influence on you.”

“So I’m told.”

“So perhaps you’re right. This isn’t the worst idea ever.”

“Mycroft will flip.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you doing anything?” he grinned.

Sherlock smiled back for a second before it turned into a grimace. “It would involve sleeping with Jenna. Possibly lots of times.”

“How sad.” John snorted.

Sherlock gave him a look and the doctor sighed.

“She won’t do IVF?”

“She doesn’t like hospitals or any medical institution that keeps records.”

“Maybe if you focus on the end result, achieving it won’t be so bad?”

Sherlock tapped a thumb against his chin. “I don’t want to confuse Meredith and make her think we’re going to get married like they do in the movies.”

“She’s a genius, Sherlock. I think so long as you and Jenna get along she’ll be happy.”

“I need to think about it.”

“Sure. It’s not an easy decision. But from where I’m standing, you’re already mixed up with Moriarty. You can’t make it much worse.”

 

Sherlock smoothed his hands down the front of his shirt and opened the door, Moriarty smirking at him underneath her dark glasses.

“I got your message,” Jenna quirked a brow, “What did you want to tell me?”

“This time I get to pick the name.”


End file.
